


What He Needs

by kinksock22



Series: What He.../Swesson [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - It's a Terrible Life, Alternate Universe - Not Related, Bottom Sam, Coming Untouched, Dom Dean, Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Shy Sam, Spanking, Sub Sam, Swesson, Top Dean, safe sex, sam and dean not related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 08:31:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6277213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinksock22/pseuds/kinksock22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean takes Sam home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What He Needs

**Author's Note:**

> Follow up to What He Wants. I'm not entirely happy with this but here it is. *shrugs*

Sam snuffles softly and cuddles closer, his nose nuzzling under Dean’s jaw. Dean can’t help but smile, one hand sliding deep into the silky-soft waves of Sam’s mussed hair, fingers curling around the strands. He wraps his other arm around Sam’s lean waist and tugs gently, pulling Sam impossibly closer to his side. He’s lost track of how long they’ve been snuggled together on the couch but he honestly doesn’t care. He wants to get Sam back to his apartment, spread out in his bed, wants to see all that tan skin against dark, high thread count sheets but at the same time he doesn’t want to let him go, doesn’t want to sacrifice the skin on skin contact, the warmth of Sam’s body against his as sweat cools and dries.  
  
He can feel the warmth of Sam’s cheek against his shoulder, the minute tensing of Sam’s muscles and he turns his head, noses through Sam’s hair, presses a kiss to his temple. Sam settles but tucks his face further into the crook of Dean’s neck, close enough that Dean can feel the feather-light flutter of his eyelashes.  
  
He's not sure if Sam’s completely awake but he still hears himself whisper against the top of Sam’s head, “Come home with me.” He means it to be a question, a request – a plea if need be, even though Dean isn’t used to having to beg for things that he wants – but it ends up coming out more as a softly given command.  
  
Sam makes a soft noise in the back of his throat and slowly pulls his head back to look up at Dean. He blinks owlishly, cheeks flushed that adorable shade of pink, his still kiss-bruised lips parted slightly. Dean smiles again and flexes his fingers on Sam’s bare hip, dipping down to brush a kiss to the side of his lips.  
  
“Come home with me,” he repeats, louder, more of a question this time but still mostly not.  
  
“Why?” Sam blurts out. He immediately bites down on his bottom lip, eyes widening, cheeks flushing darker.  
  
Dean can’t help but chuckle. “Seriously?” he asks, shaking his head slightly. “You’re gorgeous. I’d like to think we had a pretty good time here and I wanna get you into my bed. And… I wanna get to know you better.”  
  
Sam tilts his head just slightly to the side, looking for all the world like a curious puppy, still blinking slowly. “Okay,” he eventually replies softly.  
  
Using the hand still buried in Sam’s hair, Dean pulls him close again, slants their lips together. The kiss deepens and heats quickly and Sam melts into his embrace, moaning quietly, tentative fingers brushing against Dean’s stomach. As much as he wants to get Sam out of here now that he’s got the green light, Dean can’t stop himself from trailing his lips down Sam’s cheek and jaw, teeth scraping over the bone. Sam tilts his head back and to the side, offering up the long, beautiful line of his neck. Dean growls softly and forces himself to pull away, flashes Sam a smile when the younger man lets out a soft whimper that Dean is sure he isn’t aware of making.  
  
“C’mon, sweetheart,” Dean urges softly. “Let’s get dressed and get outta here.”  
  
Sam nods and smiles sweetly when Dean hands him his clothes. They dress in silence and Dean leads him out of his office with one hand pressed against the small of his back. He can’t help but pull Sam against his side again once they’re in the elevator and the doors slide closed, thinks about the first time he saw Sam all those weeks ago waiting for this very elevator.  
  
Sam’s quiet as Dean leads him to his car, into the elevator in his building, even as he leads him into his apartment. He’s come to realize in the short time that he’s known Sam that he’s just naturally quiet and shy but this level is starting to concern him.  
  
He tosses his suit jacket over the back of the couch and rolls up his sleeves, watching Sam out of the corner of his eye as the younger man looks around them. He finally closes the small bit of distance between them, hands curling over the sharp jut of Sam’s hipbones.  
  
“Second thoughts?” he asks quietly.  
  
“No,” Sam blurts out, cheeks flushing. He smiles, soft and sheepish, and drops his eyes slightly, swaying toward Dean when he tugs a bit on his hips. “I just. I’ve never done anything like this.”  
  
Dean could have guessed that. There’s no way that Sam is usually a one-night-stand type of guy. It honestly surprises him that Sam was so willing in his office.  
  
“I don’t do relationships,” Dean admits. Sam’s eyes flicker back up to his briefly and Dean can easily read the sadness, the disappointment, in those hazel depths. “I’m pretty sure I won’t actually be any good at it. But I wanna try,” he adds softly.  
  
Sam closes his eyes, his lips parting slightly when Dean squeezes his hips, his fingers bunching the fabric of Sam’s polo. He moans softly in the back of his throat, his hands tentatively sliding up Dean’s arms, around his shoulders. Dean smiles and leans forward, brushing a kiss to the side of his lips. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs. Sam’s fingers flex, clenching Dean’s shirt and Dean remembers how well Sam reacted to praise and encouragement. “Such a good boy for me, sweetheart.”  
  
Sam moans again and turns his head just enough to slide their lips together completely. Dean instantly takes over the kiss, his tongue licking over Sam’s bottom lip before deepening it. Using the hold he still has on Sam’s hips he pulls him closer, groaning thickly when he feels the hard length of Sam’s cock against his own. He slips his hands beneath the hem of Sam’s shirt, fingertips brushing against his sides, feels warm skin and trembling muscle. It hasn’t really been all that long since he had Sam naked and writhing beneath him but he already misses it.  
  
Dean nudges Sam gently and gets him walking backward, leading him down the hallway to his bedroom. He stops a few times, presses Sam against the wall, hands fisted in his hair, tongue nearly down his throat as he kissed him breathless. Sam moans and mewls and whimpers, arching his back, his long arms wrapped around Dean’s shoulders, clinging as he kisses back, rocking his hips up against Dean’s. For a few moments, Dean wishes Sam wasn’t so damn tall and built, wishes that he could lift him up and hold him against the wall, fuck him right there. He might be able to make it work for a few minutes but Sam’s freaking _huge_ and while Dean’s no slouch himself, Sam almost makes him seem small.  
  
They tumble into Dean’s bedroom and Dean uses Sam’s weight to slam the door behind them, sliding one hand down Sam’s leg, behind his thigh, curling around the back of his knee. Sam gets the hint quickly and lifts his leg, wraps it around Dean’s hip. The muscle flexes and he pulls Dean closer, their groins lining up perfectly and Sam pulls away from the kiss, panting against Dean’s lips.  
  
“ _Dean_ ,” he breathes, blinking slowly, his hazel eyes dark and needy.  
  
Dean bites at the tempting swell of Sam’s kiss-swollen bottom lip and slides his hands under Sam’s shirts against, flexing his fingers around Sam’s lean waist. “C’mon, baby,” Dean urges, tugging slightly on Sam’s hips. Sam drops his leg and lets Dean pull him toward the bed.  
  
They stop at the foot and Dean takes his time stripping Sam down, once again revealing all that tan, baby-soft skin over rippling muscle. Sam’s trembling beneath his hands and Dean smiles, gently pushing him down onto the mattress. He’s standing between the open spread of Sam’s legs, his hands once again finding themselves buried in the silky-soft strands of Sam’s hair.  
  
“Your turn, sweetheart,” Dean murmurs.  
  
It takes Sam just a few brief seconds to get what he means then he immediately brings his hands up, carefully unbuttoning Dean's shirt, reaching up to slide it off his shoulders. His fingers trail back down Dean’s chest to his waistband and Dean’s proud to notice that Sam’s hands are barely shaking – he’s pretty sure it’s mostly from arousal, maybe still just the slightest bit of nerves. Sam’s touch is soft, tentative and by the time he’s pushing Dean’s boxer briefs down and off Dean feels like he’s about to lose his freaking mind. He’s so fucking hard, doesn’t feel at all like he just had some of the best sex of his life not even a few hours ago.  
  
As soon as he steps out of his underwear, to his surprise, Sam leans forward and presses a soft, sweet kiss to his hipbone. Dean looks down, surprised again to see Sam looking up at him. Dean cards one hand through Sam’s hair and Sam’s eyes flutter closed, his head tipping just slightly into the touch, his forehead resting against Dean’s abs.  
  
Dean grips the base of his cock and tips it toward Sam, rubbing the shiny-wet tip against his barely parted lips. Sam lets out a soft but filthy moan, his eyes snapping back open, staring up at Dean wide and imploring. Dean gives him a barely-there nod and Sam doesn’t hesitate, just turns his head and mouths wetly at Dean’s cock, his tongue practically lapping at the tip, digging into the slit. He whines out another moan and swirls his tongue around the head, tracing the ridge and the nerves below then licking a thick, wet stripe up the underside.  
  
Sam slides off the foot of the bed so that he’s kneeling before Dean and Dean groans, one hand still in Sam’s hair – his fingers flexing almost unconsciously – and the other still gripping tight at the base of his dick. He tugs slightly on the messy strands of Sam’s hair and Sam’s eyes flutter again but don’t close, just keeps looking up at Dean. He tips his head slightly, effectively pulling his own hair and Dean smirks when Sam whines, his hands flying up to Dean’s thighs, fingers digging into the muscles as he finally slips just Dean’s swollen cock-head into his hot, wet mouth.  
  
Dean was completely right about Sam’s oral fixation. His boy sucks him down with enthusiasm, deep-throating one moment then just working the very tip the next. He licks up and down the shaft, pausing to suck Dean’s balls into his mouth, tongue teasing along the seam. Dean finally lets go of himself and slides his other hand into Sam’s hair as well, fingers curled into fists tight enough to tug slightly at the sweat-damp strands. Sam blinks up at him and lets his jaw go slack, want and need and permission in those lust-blown, stormy hazel-green depths.  
  
Dean groans again and tightens his hold on Sam’s hair and carefully thrusts his hips forward, pulling back when the tip just barely brushes the back of Sam’s throat. Sam moans and tips his head back just slightly, letting Dean get a better angle and Dean takes the silent hint. He thrusts in deep, his cock twitching when Sam fights his gag reflex and swallows around him, taking him as deep as possible.  
  
“Fuck, baby,” Dean growls, shifts his feet and gets a better grip on Sam’s hair. “So fuckin’ good.” Sam hums out another moan and closes his eyes, reflexive tears trickling slowly down his cheeks as Dean keeps going, fucking his face, his throat, not exactly rough but not gentle either.  
  
Sam’s still gripping his thighs and through the haze of pleasure, Dean makes sure to pay attention to his fingers. When he pushes in deep and holds it, when it gets to be too much and Sam needs him to let up, his fingers flex, clenching the muscle. He finds Sam’s limit and carefully pushes just barely past it. And Sam takes it beautifully.  
  
It feels fucking amazing and Dean knows without a doubt that he could easily come just like this but he wants another taste – literally – of Sam’s ass, wants to get him stretched out on his bed, watch him writhe and moan and beg while Dean fucks him.  
  
Sam whines softly when Dean pulls away, his wet eyelashes fluttering open, glassy hazel-green staring up at Dean. “Felt so good, baby,” Dean praises, petting through Sam’s hair. “But I don’t wanna come down your throat right now.”  
  
Sam licks his swollen, shiny-wet lips and nods. Dean reaches down and slides his hands over Sam’s shoulders, down his arms. “C’mon and get up, sweetheart.”  
  
Sam lets Dean help him to his feet, smiling softly when Dean tugs him against his chest, his arms sliding around Sam’s waist. He melts against Dean’s chest, opening easily to the kiss Dean gives him, mewling quietly when Dean’s hands slide down over the curve of his ass, fingers digging into the firm flesh. Dean doesn’t linger long, ends the kiss with a nip to Sam’s bottom lip. “Get on the bed, Sammy,” Dean murmurs, their lips still close enough to catch and drag, “Hands and knees.”  
  
Sam does as he’s told, crawls up into the middle of the mattress. Dean bites down on his bottom lip and reaches down to palm his twitching cock. Sam’s perfect ass is high in the air, the slightly pale skin still a little pink from where Dean spanked him over his desk earlier. Dean knee-walks onto the mattress and settles between Sam’s spread legs, runs his palms over the warm flesh. Sam moans softly and tilts his hips up higher, pushing just barely back into the light touch. Dean pulls one hand back and brings it back down, just barely a smack but Sam still jerks, his broad shoulders shifting as he moans again, longer and louder.  
  
“Like that, sweetheart?” Dean rasps, fingers digging a little more into firm muscle, pulling the globes of Sam’s ass open enough to see the smear of leftover lube and his fluttering hole. Sam nods, his head hanging between his shoulders. Dean spanks him again, same cheek, a little harder. “Tell me,” he commands, gentle but firm. Sam’s still learning. Dean knows he’ll get there.  
  
“Yes,” Sam breathes. Dean smacks him a third time, still in the same spot, then rubs his fingers over the blood-warm flesh. “ _Dean_ ,” Sam whimpers, sliding his knees apart more, tilting his ass higher.  
  
Dean dips down and presses a kiss to the small of Sam’s back, slides his lips down over spanked-pink skin. “We’ll work up to more of that,” Dean promises him softly, mindful of pushing Sam too far too fast.  
  
He slides his hands up Sam’s sides, over his ribs then back down, over his hips, watching as his touch relaxes Sam, the younger man practically melting into the mattress, the feel of Dean’s hands. He ends up on his elbows, chest pressing against the sheets, legs sliding open even more. Dean slides two fingers down the cleft of his ass, teases around his hole, his rim fluttering and clenching at the light touch. Holding him open with one hand, Dean dips down and swirls his tongue around the twitching furl of muscle, groaning when he realizes that Sam’s not only still a little wet from earlier but still a little open too.  
  
Dean easily sinks two fingers into Sam, still working his tongue in and around the digits, gently scraping his teeth along the rim. Sam whimpers and mewls and moans, his whole body trembling, his hips pushing back. Dean slides his free hand beneath Sam, tugs at his full, heavy sac, rolling his balls between his fingers then slips his hand up more, his own cock twitching when he feels how hard Sam is, how much he’s leaking. Dean quirks his fingers inside Sam, pads brushing against his prostate and Sam cries out, his cock twitching against Dean’s palm.  
  
“Dean,” Sam whimpers, twisting his hips, pushing them back harder, burying Dean’s fingers deeper. Dean hums against Sam’s rim, sliding his tongue up the cleft, leaving a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the small of his back. “ _Please_ …”  
  
Dean pulls both hands away, petting Sam’s hip when he whines, hips thrusting back against empty air. “Shh, sweetheart,” Dean murmurs, reaching over to the bedside table. He grabs the lube and a condom from the drawer then resettles between Sam’s legs, works three lube-slick fingers back inside him. Sam mewls and whimpers, hands curled into fists in the sheets, broad shoulders shifting, his whole body trembling as he pushes back into each curl and thrust of Dean’s fingers.  
  
“’m ready,” Sam blurts out after a few more moments, glancing over his shoulder, eyes wide and wild and so needy. “Please. ‘m ready. N-need you.” Dean licks his lips and lean over Sam’s back, fingers pressing in deep, twisting and pressing incessantly against Sam’s sweet spot. Sam moans, eyes squeezing closed. “Please,” he whispers, barely a breath of sound and Dean honestly can’t wait any longer himself, even though he’s thoroughly enjoying teasing Sam.  
  
Pressing a kiss to the side of Sam’s bitten-red lips, Dean pulls his fingers away again and sits back, quickly rolling the condom down his achingly-hard length. He palms Sam’s hip and chews on his bottom lip for a second, truly torn. He kind of really enjoys the sight of Sam on his hands and knees like this, the broad expanse of his back heaving but then again he wants to see Sam’s face, see him spread out across the sheets.  
  
“Turn over for me, baby,” Dean instructs softly, finally making the decision. He’ll have plenty of opportunities to have Sam every way possible if he has anything to say about it.  
  
Sam scrambles to obey, stretching out beautifully beneath Dean, his legs spread wide around Dean, lust-blown eyes blinking owlishly up at him. Dean reaches up and palms Sam’s cheek, his fingers brushing over the blood-warm skin over his high cheekbone. Sam closes his eyes and leans into the touch, his lips parting around a soft, sweet sigh.  
  
Dean’s other hand slides down Sam’s arm, fingers circling around his thin wrist, pads pressing against the delicate web of veins, feels Sam’s pulse thundering beneath his touch. Dean has a pretty wide collection of toys, including leather cuffs and rope and silk ties and he briefly considers binding Sam again, tying his wrists to the headboard but dismisses it just as quickly. He wants to feel Sam’s touch. Besides, leaving Sam free but commanding him to hold onto the headboard will be an excellent test of his limits and willingness.  
  
Dipping down, Dean brushes a kiss to Sam’s lips but pulls back before Sam can kiss back, smiling when Sam reopens his eyes and looks up at him. “Grab the headboard, Sam,” Dean rasps. “Don’t let go unless I tell you to, okay?”  
  
Sam licks his lips and nods. Dean raises one eyebrow and Sam’s cheeks flush even darker and he breathes a soft, “Yes, Dean.”  
  
“Good boy,” Dean praises, carding his fingers through Sam’s hair. “C’mon, arms up,” he instructs, tugging just barely on the messy strands.  
  
Sam instantly raises his arms, long, slender, almost elegant fingers curling around the wooden slats. Dean hums in approval and lets his gaze travel down the long length of Sam’s body. He looks even bigger like this, tall and broad and so beautiful. To Sam’s credit, he lets Dean look his fill, barely fidgeting. Dean slides his palms up Sam’s legs, hips, his sides, ends up cradling both sides of Sam’s face and leans down, kissing him slow and deep and thorough.  
  
Reaching between their bodies, Dean blindly lines up, continues to kiss Sam as he pushes in slowly, both of them groaning into the slide of their lips and tongues. Dean doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, pulling away from the kiss as his hands slide up into Sam’s hair. He clenches his jaw, the tight, wet heat surrounding him testing his usual impressive control. Sam’s panting beneath him, his chest heaving, muscles in his shoulders and forearms straining and corded. He’s flushed and sweaty and Dean knows he’ll never get tired of seeing Sam like this.  
  
Once Dean’s sure he’s got control of himself, he pulls back, almost all the way out, then slams back in, automatically setting up a steady, pounding rhythm. Sam moans and writhes and arches his back, pushing back against each thrust, his legs loosely wrapped around Dean’s thighs. They kiss between panting breathes, Dean murmuring against Sam’s lips, encouragement and praise and Sam begs sweetly, softly, pleading for more, deeper, harder.  
  
On one particularly hard thrust Sam cries out, one hand letting go of the headboard, reaching for Dean. Dean grabs his wrist and guides his arm back up, gently squeezing his wrist, and even though it’s probably one of the hardest things he’s ever done, Dean stops moving, the tip of his cock just barely inside Sam.  
  
Sam whines and twists his hips, tries to thrust down against Dean, trying to get him back inside. “Dean,” he breathes, eyes huge and confused and dark.  
  
“Told you not to let go, Sammy,” Dean reminds him, soft but firm.  
  
Understanding floods Sam’s eyes and he inhales shakily, gaze dropping to Dean’s chest. “’m sorry,” he whispers.  
  
Dean dips down and presses a kiss to Sam’s forehead, the side of his lips. He smiles softly when Sam looks back up at him, gently pushing the hair out of his eyes. “’s okay,” Dean assures him. “We’ll work on it, baby.” He slides his arms beneath Sam’s back, curls his fingers around the tops of his shoulders, brushes a kiss to his lips. “You gonna be my good boy and leave ‘em there though?”  
  
“Yes, Dean,” Sam answers immediately.  
  
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Dean praises. Sam moans softly, his cock twitching against Dean’s abs. “Such a good boy for me.” Sam grips the headboard in a white-knuckle grip, eyes locked with Dean’s.  
  
Dean slams back inside without warning and Sam cries out, arching his back, head pressing into the pillow beneath his head, offering up the long line of his neck. Dean dips down and mouths wetly at the sweat-salty skin over his pounding pulse as he picks up his rhythm again, fucking into Sam hard and deep, twisting his hips, cock-head hitting Sam’s prostate on every other thrust.  
  
Dean loses track of time as he continues to move inside of Sam, arms holding him as close as possible to his chest, kissing him breathless, murmuring sweet and filthy against his lips. Sam squeezes his thighs around Dean, his cock leaking like a busted pipe between them, his inner muscles fluttering and clenching around Dean so achingly good and Dean can feel himself rushing closer and closer to the edge.  
  
“Dean,” Sam moans, arms trembling, fingers clenching around the headboard. “I… So close, Dean… Please…”  
  
“You gonna come for me, baby?” Dean asks softly, sliding one hand up into the back of Sam’s hair. “Gonna come just like before, just like this? Just from me fuckin’ you?”  
  
“Yes,” Sam hisses. “Lemme touch you?” he blurts out. “Please, Dean? Wanna touch you.”  
  
Dean dips down and slams their lips together, thrusting his tongue between Sam’s parted lips, kissing him nearly as brutal as the slam of his hips. “You can,” he half-growls, words smeared into the kiss.  
  
Sam drops his arms immediately and wraps them around Dean’s shoulders, one hand gripping the back of Dean’s neck as a nearly tortured moan tears from his throat. “Gonna,” Sam breathes. “Dean… gonna…”  
  
“C’mon, baby,” Dean encourages.  
  
Sam cries out, clinging to Dean’s shoulders, his untouched cock jerking between the press of their stomachs as his orgasm hits. His inner muscles clamp down and flutter around Dean, so tight and so perfect that Dean can’t even hope to hold out. He follows Sam over the edge a heartbeat later, losing his rhythm entirely, hips jerky and erratic as he tries to work them both through their shared release.  
  
Sam melts beneath him, loosely still clinging to his shoulders, a sweet, sated smile curling up his lips as he blinks slowly. Dean squeezes him briefly before pulling away to ditch the condom and grab something to clean them both up with. When he crawls back onto the bed with Sam, he pulls him into his arms, smiling when Sam latches on, curling up against his side despite the heat and sweat. Dean slides his hand into Sam hair – he realizes that he’s already developed a healthy obsession with the silky-soft, messy waves – and holds him close, turns his head and presses his lips to Sam’s temple. He closes his eyes, already making plans for the rest of the weekend.

 


End file.
